


bless those tired eyes

by montea (gamorage)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Experimental Style, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Stream of Consciousness, inspired by Gabriel García Márquez and Junot Díaz, tbh why did i write this, there is no real point to this piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 23:17:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamorage/pseuds/montea
Summary: The world ends on a Tuesday.





	bless those tired eyes

**Author's Note:**

> HI!!!!! i actually wrote this a LOng time ago for an english assignment and decided to post this now so!!! yeah
> 
> this contains excerpts from robert fagles' translation of the iliad and abrupt changes in point of view and too many fucikng run on sentences 
> 
> pls lemme know ur thoughts on this bc i love writing in this way and also i like being complimented. 
> 
> hope u enjoy!

❧

 

  _in the dark we will take off our clothes_

_and they'll be placing fingers through the notches in your spine_

_and when all is breaking_

_everything that you could keep inside_

_now your eyes ain't moving_

_now they just lay there in their climb_

 

❧

 

 _The world ends on the same Tuesday the frost began to melt and the ground began to thaw, when the birds_ had returned from the warmth of the places they’d migrated to at the end of last autumn to rebuild their nests and the cold no longer bit the skin of our cheeks with its sharp teeth whenever we decided to go outside. The day began as normally as it possibly could because there was no reason for it not to have done, with Clarke who knows that’s not a girl’s name Griffin waking up at the earliest hours of the morning and taking a scalding shower and brushing her teeth with a velocity and carelessness that might make her dentist cringe and dressing herself in her regular choice of dark washed jeans and a t-shirt and pulling her blond bed head up into a ponytail so she didn’t have to think about how messy it was and not even bothering with makeup because I don’t have enough time, because I have to hurry, hurry, hurry, if I don’t want to be late for first period chemistry, and so she gathers her things and runs out the front door of her house, fast enough to forget to grab the piece of toast her mother Abby had told her to eat but not enough to leave without kissing her father Jake on the cheek and saying goodbye Dad I love you I’ll be home after lacrosse, don’t forget to take your pills, see you at six.

 

❧

 

She ran to school with her bag full of books slung over one shoulder and her gym bag over the other, gripping her lacrosse stick in her hand, and when she arrived to school late by three and a half minutes the air in my lungs being pulled out of my body and my heart beating loud and fast in my ears, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, and she made it to chemistry just in time to start working on a titration lab or something she doesn’t really care about, she’s always been better at bio anyways. The rest of the day was boring as usual, she floated through English and history and art which is her favorite and calculus with a practiced ease that could only have been achieved by years and years of the same monotony repeating itself on a constant loop like that Bill Murray movie about the weatherman, and she survived it like she always has because the cafeteria served garlic bread just how I like it with melted mozzarella on top so when I bite into it the cheese drags in that picturesque Food Network way and she sat with her friend Monty Green and his boyfriend whose name is actually Nathan Miller but everyone except for Monty calls him just Miller because he hangs out with that senior Bellamy Blake who lives across the street and drives a motorcycle to school whose younger sister Octavia is in Clarke’s gym class and is dating that tall guy who graduated two years ago called Lincoln and everybody who hangs out with Bellamy Blake except for Bellamy Blake gets called everything but their given name and nobody really knows why but that’s still the way it is. They had a very long and in-depth conversation about astrology because Monty is a virgo but he really feels more like a gemini and Miller vehemently disagreed because I’m a capricorn if you were a gemini we probably wouldn’t be this compatible, you dummy, and Clarke thought astrology in general is pretty much bullshit magazines like Cosmo use to make people categorize themselves in some way or another like the Myers-Briggs personality test does and Monty just laughs and steals one of Miller’s French fries. After lunch she skipped French in favor of hanging out in the library and reading the Iliad in that little nook nobody knows about behind the entomology textbooks where the light’s just right and you can get lost in your own thoughts for hours and hours and she read and read about how Patroclus has fallen, how a black cloud of grief comes shrouding over Achilles, both hands clawing the ground for soot and filth and he pours it over his head, and overpowered in all his power, sprawled in the dust, Achilles lies fallen, how you suddenly loose a terrible, wrenching cry and your noble mother Thetis hears you, sitting next to her father in his throne in the green depths of the sea and she cries out in turn, and then the bell rang and Clarke reluctantly left to get ready for lacrosse. By the time practice ended Clarke’s entire body ached and she’d acquired a new set of bruises to make up for the ones she didn’t get at last week’s practice because she’d been out sick with the flu and a text from her mother telling her that I have a lot of surgeries tonight so I won’t be home till late, there’s leftovers in the fridge and a few missed calls from her father which is kind of strange because he usually hates calling people on the phone but he didn’t leave any voicemails so it can’t be that important, I’ll be home in like ten minutes he can tell me whatever he needs to tell me then, and after she shoves her gym bag and cleats into her locker she walks out of the locker room and into the parking lot in the back of the school where she sees her best friend Wells Jaha whose dad is chief of surgery at the hospital her mom works at leaning against a tree and reading out of an ethics textbook, presumably waiting for her and she just rolls her eyes and walks to him because you know you don’t have to wait for me every day after practice ends, my house is like three blocks away and you just shrug and put your book away and tell me you don’t mind and you want to.

 

❧

 

I find him like this: sprawled face down on the gravel of their driveway, blood pooling around his head like a halo, and his body is limp, his legs akimbo in a way that looks unnatural in any and every possible sense of the word and for a moment everything goes still and every sound is muted and all there is right now is me and the body in front of her. My bag slips out of her hand and falls to the ground and everything begins to go faster again and I run to the body and fall to her knees at his side, rolling him over so he’s on his back and putting her fingers to his neck and her ear to his mouth so I can hear if he’s breathing and there’s nothing, nothing, nothing, no thump-thump of a pulse or in-out of breath and so we check again three times and try to remember what our mother told us all those years ago about placing the heel of one hand over the center of the person’s chest, between the nipples and placing your other hand on top of the first hand, keeping your elbows straight and positioning your shoulders so they’re parallel to your hands and then using your upper body weight as you push straight down on the chest at least two inches pushing at about a rate of one hundred compressions per minute thirty times, and then putting your palm on the person’s forehead and gently tilting back and using the other hand gently lifting the chin forward to open the airway and pinching the nostrils and covering the mouth with yours, making a seal, giving two rescue breaths of about a second and seeing if the chest rises and she does this over and over and over and over again and she’s got blood on her hands and pebbles from the driveway are digging into the skin of my knees but she keeps compressing, one, two, three, four.

 

❧

 

It takes the combined efforts of two paramedics to get her to stop, to pull her away from him and tell her that it’s not too late and he’s not gone yet and the doctors can help him and that you did everything right and there was nothing more you could’ve done and it’s gonna be alright and they put a cheap blanket on your shoulders and give you these looks that tell you all you need to know as they set him on a stretcher and haul the empty vessel of what used to be my father onto the ambulance. The drive to the hospital is short as it usually is and when they get there her mother is in surgery and the doctors on call take him immediately to a procedure room and shut the blinds so I can’t see what is going on so I just sit on an uncomfortable wooden chair in the waiting room with the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders and stares into space, thinking of nothing and everything all at once, and after an indefinite amount of time passes, Abby shows up still wearing her jellyfish scrub cap and her light blue scrub suit, and she’s crying and asking what happened are you okay did you get hurt and you realize that you’re still wearing your blue-and-white lacrosse uniform because you’d wanted to put it in the laundry so it wouldn’t be so dirty for the game next week and now it’s blue-and-white-and-red because you are covered in blood that has dried in a way that makes your skin feel tight but you still don’t say anything to her and so your mother runs into the procedure room to help or whatever but they probably won’t let her because I know enough about hospitals to know that you aren’t supposed to operate on family so at most they’ll let Abby watch or something. Four minutes go by and Clarke is still sitting in the waiting room and then she hears a terrible, wrenching cry come from the procedure room, a scream that cuts deep into her bones of no, no, no, no, please stay with me, I need you I love you don’t go please and she knows what this means, she saw it in the pity in the eyes of the paramedics when they looked at her, the lifelessness of the corpse’s blue eyes, and so she looks up at the clock on the wall in front of her.

Time of death, nineteen forty-six.

**Author's Note:**

> find me @[ ** _evanhansun_**](http://evanhansun.tumblr.com) and yell at me for something
> 
> (ALSO LET ME KNOW IF I CAN ADD ANYTHING TO THE TAGS IN TERMS OF TRIGGER WARNINDS AND STUFF)


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